


the demon's play

by psoettd



Category: Camp Camp (Web Series)
Genre: Blood Drinking, Boys Kissing, Demon Summoning, Demon!Preston, Fluff, M/M, Outside Kissing, Smoking, Unintentional Summoning, btw this won’t be nsfw, jasper and david are just too busy for their son, jasper has autism, preston is valid, they try i promise
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-13
Updated: 2018-07-01
Packaged: 2019-05-05 01:53:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14606583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/psoettd/pseuds/psoettd
Summary: Max makes a new friend he doesn't understand so well. He has dark arms and light chest, amazing hair and black legs to his thighs. He makes sure he'll take care of this stranger for the time being.





	1. cat jumper

"God!"

Max exhaled through his nostrils as he navigated his way through his house, his short ponytail bobbing up and down; his bright blue Billie Eilish t-shirt being pressed against the dusty, peeling walls as he dodged any entryways to another room. He knew where he was going, determined to not let anything to get in his way, huffing as his black socks slammed against the wooden floor with each step, kicking up dust. 

"I swear, if Nikki went through my attic," he hissed, clenching a fist, "I'll rip out her ponytail and redye it."

His piercing, bright jade eyes scanning across the hallway he had brought himself to before glancing up, seeing the patch of uneven wood and a deep grey drawstring draping from it. With a sigh, he grabbed the string, tugging on it and stepping out of the way as the ladder fell to his feet, bits of ash still sitting on the steps from the time he had set the attic on fire when he was younger. He lifted a leg, tugging off his socks for better friction against the metal rungs; slowly, and carefully, he grabbed onto the sides of the ladder and hoisting himself up. As soon as his head popped into the attic, shaking his curly hair from his eyes and letting himself drape onto the floor. Sniffling softly to prevent a sneeze, he sat up and rubbed his forehead, forcing himself to stand up and walk around the top floor. There was a small window on the other side of the room that shone soft and calm light through it; Max started walking towards it, letting out a shriek of surprise when a large, black and leather-bound tome dropped from a shelf. The small boy sighed, glad nobody was there to catch him, as he knew that Neil would never leave him alone for this.

With a final glance at the window, he reached down and ran his chubby fingers across the cover, tugging his hand back when he felt how warm it was. 

"The fuck?"

He muttered, tapping it with a finger; it had become hotter, prompting him to flick the book. Consequently, and to his dismay, the book fell open, pages scattering before stopping on one yellowing and covered in letters page. Max fell back onto the floor, shocked and scooted back. His head hovered over it for a moment, eyebrows furrowed, trying to decipher all the words on the paper, running his finger over the words. It was cold, surprisingly, calming and endearing; he attempted to turn it, quickly becoming concerned when his hand started to experience a buzz like feeling in his skin. 

"Fuge dilecte mi et venite ad me. Te ad me. Odds estis vos oderunt me," he muttered, butchering the pronunciation. "God, what kind of Russian shit is this?"

He turned, holding the book in his hand and looking across the room, staring upon a chest in the corner of it near the window. With a huff, he stood, letting the book fall from his hands and kicking it to the side, walking to the window with his back hunched. Putting a dusky hand on the glass, he glanced at his reflection; curly hair, bright eyes, a bright blue shirt and a dark, human shaped figure behind him.

His eyes snapped wide open, glancing back to see a taller, darker and thinner figure with glowing, citrine eyes. He let out a small shriek, slamming himself against the window, wheezing.

"Wait," the figure said, eyeing themself in the window. They scoffed, and as Max blinked, the darkness was gone, showing a tall, pale boy with a white shirt, jeans, black legs and arms, the same black crawling up his neck and beautiful, glimmering amber eyes.

"Sorry," he muttered, rubbing his cheek; Max watched as he tucked a large lock of hair behind his ear. The black haired boy kept his eyes on the red tinted, deep brown hair with blonde highlights around his bangs. "I'm not really used to your type."

"My type?" Max hissed, his mind finally working. The taller boy shook his hands ferociously and laughed.

"No! No, I meant humans," the yellow clad boy laughed, waving a hand. "I don't know dark from light, don't worry."

Max rolled his eyes, sighing; he gestured towards the taller man's body, raising a brow. "Yeah, whatever, but tell me again why the fuck and how the fuck you got here?" 

He blinked at Max for a second, staring down at him before gasping. "I forgot to tell you, didn't I?" Reaching a hand out, he grabbed Max's palm and shook it vigorously. "My name's Preston! I'm your assigned summoned!"

Max stared at him and tilted his head. "Assigned what?" He hissed, making Preston chuckled. 

"I'm a demon," Preston called, waving his hands. His deep, black hands were hot against Max's skin.

"Your demon, Maximillion!"


	2. we're the same animals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Max thought this was just a dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me gay

Hands intertwined, Max and Preston continued to stare into eachother's eyes. Suddenly, the Indian boy yelped and snapped his palms back, shaking as he looked down at them; Preston blinked, not realizing his hands had become pitch black, small particles of white dancing under the surface of his skin. He quickly shook them, the blackness creeping up his arms. 

"Shit, sorry!" Preston yelped, shaking his head. Max glowered at him, rubbing his hands against his shirt. The demon reached a hand out and watched as Max slapped his arm, the black skin warmer than his palm was. 

"Jesus," Max yelled, making Preston shrink into his neck, blinking; the word made his head spin. "Could you get any weirder?"

Preston watched as he stomped out of the attic, making his way down the ladder, leaving the demon alone with the open chest full of small but knowing clowns.

* * *

 Max sighed, grabbing a large lock of his black hair and wringing out over his sink, letting the dry hair hang over his face as he pulled the towel onto his hips. Glancing up in the mirror, he nearly had a heart attack when he saw a dark figure standing behind him, bright, citrine eyes, like a witch's cat. He shivered and turned around, seeing Preston still in his dark form, a small bit of liquid dripping from his arms. With his fists clenched, Max grunted as Preston leaned against his shoulder, hot and touching his skin in the weirdest way; his hair leaned over Max's dark skin, his tongue peeking out. The caramel skinned boy didn't have enough time to show him away before Preston laid a large bite along his shoulder, sniffing him and taking in his scent. He smelled freshly cleaned, heavy and forest like.

"Hey!" Max screeched, shoving at Preston's head. The demon gave a slight giggle and pulled back, his eyes lidded. "The fuck is your problem!"

Preston gave a shrug, sniffing Max's hair and shivering, running his fingers through the wet, messy curls. "I like it," Preston muttered, leaning a hand up and rubbing Max's shoulders softly; his skin felt like hot rocks on aching muscles. Unwillingly, Max let out a soft sigh, leaning his face against the fogged up mirror, feeling Preston let one hand trail up his back. An intoxicating scent filled Max's nostrils, blinking softly and glancing back at the demon boy behind him. Jumping slightly, he realized Preston was fumbling with his hair, tugging at the messy brown locks. 

"God," Max whispered, shoving lightly at the dark hands.He grunted as he felt the hand make its way to his middle. "Fucking hell, do you respect privacy?"

Preston shook his head, pulling his hands away. The brown skinned man sighed, leaning against the counter before Preston snuggled against his chest, wrapping his legs around thighs. The man glanced down at the demon before seeing a small, spade shaped black and leather like appendage wiggle from his jeans. Either Preston had a weird snake in his pants, or he had a fucking tail. It whipped and curled, making its way out and slapping against its owners upper leg. He grunted, face flushing ashy, dusting over his freckles. "Woah," Max muttered, reaching a hand out to rub the spade. "You're not a fake, huh?" Preston glared down at Max and raised his brows, tail wrapping around his fingertips.

"If I was a fake, could I be here right now?"

"My mental stability isn't what it used to be."

The demon sighed and pulled himself away, opening the door and sidestepping out of it. He glared at Max and called from the corner of the hallway,

"You don't mind if I thaw some shit out, right?"

Max quickly pulled his pants on, throwing the towel on the ground as he ran to protect his food.

* * *

Preston watched as Max lit his cigarette, tail swishing back and forth. He glanced around the dark yard dotted with lightning bugs and bright flowers, a withering and dead tree stump in the left side of it. No fence, thought the taller, his pale skin more than dark; he was calm, collected and ready, pretending to not notice as Max side glanced at him constantly.

"So, where do you work?" Preston asked, putting his chin in his hand. The smaller glared at him and puffed out the last part of his cigarette, dropping it to the ground and stepping on it. He patted his pack of cancer sticks, shook it, and shoved his lighter into his pocket.

"I don't have one," Max retorted. "My dads pay me." Preston perked up at this, eyes widening. They seemed to be full of stars, sitting down on the grass and leaning on his chest. He had never heard of humans reproducing with two males! Maybe two males make another male?

" _Dads?_ " Preston drew out, his tail thwipping in the air. Max grunted, rolling his eyes.

"Yeah, dads. David and Jasper," he hissed, leaning against the house's wall. His fingers played with his lighter, not concerned with his hoodie catching fire.

"That's cool," Preston whispered, grinning with his wide, yellow eyes. Max looked down uncomfortably, watching as Preston crawled to him on his front, tail hitting the back of his thigh. His hair glimmered with the dew he had laid in, lolling his tongue out to lick his teeth. He watched the standing man shudder, crouching down to pat the dark brown hair. It was soft, plush and a little frizzy, the back sticking up some. Preston leaned against him and licked his raspy tongue against the caramel skin, ignoring the deep scent of tobacco as Max ruffled his hair.

"You promise you're not just a hallucination?" Max asked, narrowing his brows. Preston glanced up, smiling.

"If I'm a hallucination, I must be self aware, huh?"

Max laughed and leaned down, crouching over Preston's legs. He sat down as the light skinned boy drew his legs up, making the smaller lean forward to his face. They stared at each other for a few moments, the demon's eyes glinting wildly as he glanced around, using his back to bring himself up. 

Max wrapped his arms around Preston's back as they kissed, transferring the scent and taste of tobacco and, from Preston, blood.

"What did you eat," Max joked in a whispered, breaking the kiss. Preston breathed softly and smiled.

"Yeah," he said, leaning back into Max.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hhh next chapter will be mega gay™️


	3. you loved me and i froze in time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Max has father issues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gODDAMN

"What do you  _mean_ I can't come over?" 

Preston looked up, holding his fork with an oven mitt as he stirred his salad. He tilted his head and furrowed his brows, pursing his lips as Max ran a hand through his hair.

"No, dad," Max seethed, "please, just listen to me for a second!"

A soft sigh came from the phone, Max's fingers clenching around the case. Preston sat up, taking his mitt off and setting it on the deep red table.

"Max, please," a soft voice muttered from the phone. "You know me and Jasper are busy today. He has an appointment with his therapis-"

"Therapist, my ass," Max shouted. "You and dad are just ignoring me! You've _been_ doing this since I dropped out of college!" 

The only thing that filled the silence was the static crackling from the phone; Max wiped his eyes with his forearm, blinking away the blurriness. Preston grimaced, pushing his bowl away and taking his mitt off. Max looked up, face softening as Preston stepped away from the table

 _'I'll be right back,'_   he mouthed, sidestepping out of the kitchen room; his hooves clapped silently against the carpet, his joints bending as he ran. 

"God," Max yelled from the other room, followed by Preston pushing the boy's door open. "You're just like my real parents!"

With his face contorting into a grimace, Preston crouched down inside of the small room; his nose twitched as he heard deep, broken sobs from down the hallway. Hooves aching, he sat down on Max's, obviously, unmade bed covered in muted blankets and pillowcases. His eyelashes laid against his pale cheeks as he closed his citrine eyes and let himself fall back, inhaling softly and grunting; the bones in his leg snapped and remade themselves into a human shape, the fur retracting back into his legs as his hooves paled until they were deep black like the rest of his limbs. Eyes watering, he wiped the small tears that had formed on the tips of his rosy cheeks with warm, thin claws; meek and fragile, pressed his legs to his chest, letting his leather-like tail hit his thigh. 

His calm state was interrupted by the door slamming, hard at that, and the mute sounds of Max's socks hitting the floor. The Indian boy lifted a sweater sleeve and wiped his sea foam-colored eyes; it felt like he had been hit with the same foam, weak and wearing down from the constant crash of the tide against his body. Every rock sinks, he thought.

Even the strong ones.

* * *

 

Pursed lips locked, fingers intertwined, noses almost touching. Max pulled back for breath first, his throat clenching with every inhale he took; Preston bit his pink lip and smirked.

He knew what he was doing. 

Preston leaned into his face and opened his mouth, leaning under Max's jaw. His fangs grazed the deep brown skin before he clenched his own maw down. To his surprise, he heard Max exhale only softly.

"You got," he chuckled and ruffled Preston's hair, "you got sharp teeth there."

His tongue slithered out to lick the blood from his lips, his head tilted and eyes narrowed; his brows were knitted together as Max leaned down to kiss his forehead. He flinched back and looked up at him, face flushing with ash that only burning notebook paper could conjure. 

"I like them." Preston clenched his shoulders, eyes wide and eyebrows furrowed.

"Gross," he whispered, putting a hand on the Indian boy's wound; he rubbed it softly, skin warm against Max's cold. He watched as the boy's eyes closed, head leaning back and a small smile on his face.

"So," Preston said, running a thumb along the bite wounds. Max hummed and opened his eyes, lidded but still alert.

"Sorry about your parents."

Max shoved his hand away and ran from the room, halfway down the hallway and slamming the bathroom door; Preston's fingers were still covered in fresh blood and flakes of dark skin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> asdrtyhujhgfd wow an update


	4. Velocity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Max wakes up to Preston's antics.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> why havent i updated in a month? hhng hn depression save ,me

The clink of car keys.

Holding onto an arm, hands warm and grappling as Max grunted, blinking softly as his eyes barely adjusted to the dark room. He tilted his head, his body filling with adrenaline as he caught sight of the blurry, tawny orbs glaring at him through the dark. 

"Oh shit--," Max screeched, slamming his head against the wall as he attempted to sit up. As he glanced back up, the glowing eyes blinked quickly, a quiet brushing noise heard as the room's overhead light clicked on. 

Preston blinked softly, furrowing his brows in confusion as he watched Max rub the back of his head. He kept his eyes trained on his boyfriend as he ran a hand through his hair, sniffing deeply and groaning. 

"Hey, hot stuff," the demon crooned, spade-tip tail dragging up the chipped paint of the wall like a pen along paper. His arms were covered in one of Max's tattered, old and worn down hoodies with multiple holes in it; he pulled the hood over his deep brown hair, tail picking up in speed as he heard the soft sound of fabric tearing. The Indian man rubbed his sullen eyes, blinking his eyelashes against his bottom lids, and furrowed his eyebrows. Preston remained silent as he watched the boy seethe;

"God, I  _can_ not believe you," he hissed, raising his arms from his lap and showing his palms. "You treat me like trash when I give  _you_ a home! You're a  _demon,_ a demon! In my home! Why should I keep you here with me?" 

 The stench of burnt hair quickly filled the inside of the room as if it was from the flooring up, soft ash crawling up Preston’s arms and legs as he let his grin falter. Was he a burden, or was it just an overreaction of emotions that was, undoubtedly, a common occurrence from the man? Why was he kept around, not expelled from the property with quick tears and an exorcist; they were fake anyways, preachers doing nothing but terrifying humans going through small bouts of psychopathy in old houses. 

“Well,” the being started warily, “I don’t suppose you must keep me around, do you. Aren’t you lonely? Aren’t you tired of your fathers leaving you lonesome for other reasons?”

There was a brief silence in the room, heavy and rich in awkwardness as Max allowed the feelings to crystallize. He didn’t mean to be so serious, he didn’t mean to even sound rude; he just wanted to go back to resting with a warm, tall figure wrapped around his nerves. And he sure as Hell did not want to fight, as early in the morning as it was. The heavy air filled Max’s lungs, weighing him to the bedsheets, already stained with soda and ash. 

“I didn’t mean it that way.”

Preston barely reacted to the word’s of the other male; he stood, high-heeled boots clinking against the floor as he made his way to Max’s sheets and grabbed his arms.

”C’mere,” he whispered, hugging Max close to his chest, burying his face into his mass of hair.

”Take a deep breath. We’ll be okay.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wanna update more steadily strhehehe


End file.
